


His Return

by sterekhalinsk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott, Angst, Beta Derek, Beta Stiles, Depressed Stiles, Fluff and Angst, Fluff for Sadists, M/M, Mpreg, Post Mpreg, Pregnant Stiles, Stiles P.O.V, True Alpha Scott, Wolf Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:35:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterekhalinsk/pseuds/sterekhalinsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski, the guy who almost died and was bitten by his best bud. I never wanted the bite, because hey, who would break the barriers of mountain ash? But it happened, and I may or may not have had amazing butt sex with the great ol' former alpha, Sour Wolf. Women are the ones that get pregnant, right? But yeah, I'm a dude, with a six month old baby bump, and no baby daddy.</p><p>Derek is somewhere in South America with Cora, ensuring that she's alive and well, and he's not coming back for another year. Or more. And I'm pregnant with his cub, and he won't be here to see him be born. Or her. Scott knows, but I refuse to find out. If Derek doesn't know, than neither should I, right?</p><p>I could always call. Tell him about our cub, our baby, and see if he chooses his sister over his own, the other way around or brings Cora back to California as a whole. But there's always the possibility of him laughing through the phone and deciding to stay in South America. It doesn't seem like something he would do. But who would want to come home to a child with a man - a boy - you've fucked once for the sake of a fuck?</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Return

**Author's Note:**

> Blahh, sorry. Season four has made me a angsty asshole (no spoilers). You have been warned of my disappointed writing.

"I can sing if I want to." Scott grumbles, and then he's at it again. Singing some Nirvana song on loop. Acapella. As if the music does anything to cover up the noise to begin with.

"You're making the baby mad." I say, rubbing circles over my stomach absently. 

Stiles Stilinski, the guy who almost died and was bitten by his best bud. I never wanted the bite, because hey, who would break the barriers of mountain ash? But it happened, and I may or may not have had amazing butt sex with the great ol' former alpha, Sour Wolf. Women are the ones that get pregnant, right? But yeah, I'm a dude, with a six month old baby bump, and no baby daddy.

Derek is somewhere in South America with Cora, ensuring that she's alive and well, and he's not coming back for another year. Or more. And I'm werewolf pregnant with his cub, and he won't be here to see him be born. Or her. Scott knows, but I refuse to find out. If Derek doesn't know, than neither should I right?

I could always call. Tell him, and see if he chooses his sister over his cub, the other way around or brings Cora back to California as a whole. But there's always the possibility of him laughing through the phone and deciding to stay in South America with Cora. It doesn't seem like something he would do. But who would want to come home to a child with a man - a boy - you've fucked once for the sake of a fuck.

"Stiles, you're thinking again." Scott says, looking at me with this look of... of pity.

Its always there, that look. And it will always will be burned into my mind. Who wouldn't feel petty for a pregnant dude, "I have the right to think!"

He frowns, but the pity is still there, "Yeah, but don't think about _that. You're_ making the baby upset."

And the tears find their way into my eyes. I blame it on the pregnancy, but who am I kidding? I miss Derek, and I want him here; baby or not. I miss his frown and the way only I can make him smile. I miss his insults and their underlying compliments. I miss him. His nails scraping my back, digging into my thighs as he ruts into me. And that's all I'll ever be to him, something to fuck.

"Scott, I miss him." I sob into Scott's shoulder. He knows when I need a hug. He knows when I need something to sink my fangs into and _scream._ And he knows not to hug me when I need to scream.

And for that, I truly thank Scott's werewolf senses. They work in his favor. My own, however? I detest them. Because they let me pick up Derek's faint smell in my room, in his own bedroom, and its painfully intoxicating. Its a reminder that he's not here, and that he probably doesn't want to be. 

Scott has his phone in his hand, offered to me, "You can call him."

Its impulsive, but I dial in the numbers I've memorized by heart from nights of _wanting_ to call him. The phone rings, the sound vibrating in my ears alongside the clicking of my teeth gnawing at my nails. On the third ring he picks up, offering a gruff, "Scott?"

"Its Stiles." I say, and my voice is shaky, cracking and rough as the circles being rubbed on my back by Scott's fingers do absolutely nothing to calm my nerves.

I don't know how he can tell, but he just does, "Stiles, what's wrong?"

I cough, tears stuck in my throat just as the baby kicks uncomfortably, "Derek, I need you. I fucking need you back here."

I can hear him swallow, a rustling sound in the back that scrapes the inside of my ears, "I need you to calm down. Breathe, Stiles, breathe."

"Damn it, Derek. I'm breathing fine!" The baby kicks again, when I say Derek's name, and it hurts in different levels.

"Stiles, who are you with? I hear two other heart beats, and don't lie to me." His voice is concerned, borderline pitiful. Like everyone else.

I shoo Scott out of the room, and he leaves silently, because he understands,  "Somebody just left?"

I nod, because I'm stupid, "Yeah, yeah... Scott just left."

"Then who's still there? Lyd-"

"No." I don't want to cut him off, if he continues I don't think I can tell him, "This person can't leave my side, not yet."

"Stiles, is somebody threatening you? What's happening?" He's yelling at me, and I almost drop Scott's phone. I hate being yelled at.

"Derek, listen to me." I say, breathing in and out loudly.

"I'm listening." He says, his own heart rate lowering and the lines goes quiet.

"This person can't leave my side, because they haven't been born yet." I'm not lying.

But he doesn't believe me, "Stiles, what are you talking about?"

"I'm pregnant! Okay, I'm fucking pregnant with your cub. Boy or girl, I don't know, but I do know that I'm six months in, and it's _yours."_ Derek's breath hitches as I say every word. When I'm finished, he's panting, a growl erupting from the phones speaker.

"Why didn't you _tell_ _me_ _?"_ He growls out, a sound my ears are used to.

"How _could_ _I_ _?_ When your out somewhere in South America, protecting Cora? How could I be so selfish?" And it is selfish of me. That I'm calling him and wavering his attention from what he has to do.

"Because its selfless to not tell me about my child for six months? Stiles, I'm coming over there." He's mad, and confused. I can tell by his words, his tone.

"Derek, no!" I yell, because this phone call was a mistake, "I don't want you near me!"

He growls into the line, "Fine."

...

I didn't expect him to show up three days later, with a flared nose and dilated green eyes, "You never said I couldn't be near my child."

I didn't.

"I'm sorry, just, just go back to Brazil or something. I take back everything, just go back." He smells broken, and it kills me inside.

Then he's on his knees before my sitting form. His forearms connect with the couch cushion, hands tentative, looming over my stomach, "Stiles, please, let me."

I nod weakly, the warmth of his hands filling my chest with content. I've been craving his hands on me for too long, his touch lingering when he pulls back, "Derek..." I cry out, letting heavy, teary breaths take over my body.

His smell is strong, intensified by months of chasing after its fleeting form, and I can't bring myself to tell Derek just how much I've missed him, "Stiles... why didn't you tell me?" He says softy, staring at me with fondness, no pity.

I told my head to the side, a tear rolling over the bridge of my nose, "I'm sorry." I say, because there's no reason why I didn't tell him.

His hands are back, but instead, he's sitting next to me on the couch, trapping me in a light embrace. His neck is in my face, and I can't help myself but inhale deeply, nosing at the spot behind his ears where his natural scent is its strongest. His skin is soft, even his freshly shaved stubble, though I guess its because I've been craving his touch for so long, I would mind any discomfort.

"I'm sorry." I repeat, "I'm so sorry."

I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing in his scent, again and again, "Stiles... look at me."

I feel it, the primal need to just show, to beg him to forgive me. So when I open my eyes, I know they're a golden brown, and I can feel my fangs ticking into the flesh of my lips, "I'm sorry."

Then he's hugging me again, holding my head to his chest. And his touch is calming, soothing me back into my human state, "Stiles, its okay. I'm here now, its okay."

And I want to believe that its okay, that he's not mad at me. But I can smell it, the restraint of his thoughts, reasons, screams radiating off him in waves, "You could've told me, and I would've come back."

"Yeah but that doesn't mean you would've wanted to. I know you, you would've come for the sake of your child, not for me. You would stay because you love your child, not because you love me."

"Shit, is that what you believe? No, Stiles, no. I'm here because I want to, because I love my child _and_ you. I wasn't planning on staying in South America, me and Cora were only dealing with something. Two more weeks, and I'll have to go back to get her. Then I'll be back, and I won't be leaving.

Please, Stiles, please. Give me a month at most and I'll never leave your side. You don't know how much I've missed you and your mouth, your sarcasm, your hundred forty seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bones. Though I guess you weigh a bit more now, but I still love you. Always have." He finishes off, but I find it hard to believe him.

But I believe him, when his lips find mine, and he's rubbing soft circles into my skin, feeling my stomach, "I'm glad you're back."

But I can't smile. I mean the words, bud there's a void.

...

The void is full, two months and a week later, when Derek is next to me in bed, our baby girl lying between us. I can't sleep feeling this safe and relaxed, I'm not used to it. It feels unnatural, but amazing.

Derek shifts around in his sleep, inhaling deeply before his eyes open, crystal blue and confused, "Go to sleep."

"I can't." I admit, cupping my hand around Claudia.

He pulls me closer to him by my neck, mindful of Claudia sleeping between us, and he kisses me gently. Threading his fingers through my hair that has grown an inch or two is all the comfort I need. And I fall asleep, knowing everything is alright.


End file.
